


A Small Talk at the Back of Beyond

by leaflings



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Angst and Tragedy, Connor is an AI, Fear of Death, Gen, Outer Space, in which i write a fanfic for a flash game nobody's ever heard of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 13:33:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15887049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leaflings/pseuds/leaflings
Summary: Hank Anderson wakes up alone in a dark room. Alone? No, there is someone talking to him through a console. With a killer headache and a fuzzy memory, he doesn't have much choice but to respond.





	A Small Talk at the Back of Beyond

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is based on/takes inspiration from/follows rather closely (at least for Connor) a flash game of the same name by Scriptwelder. it's a really nice albeit sad and short game and yall should go check it out

His vision is blurry when he opens his eyes, and his head is pounding. Something green and fuzzy is in the corner of his view, slowly becoming more and more clear as Hank regains consciousness. Holding his head, he squints at the green, realizing it’s text.

>Hello.

>Over here.

>Can we talk for a bit?

There is a pause in the typing noises as Hank reads the words, groggy and confused, before whoever is on the other end of the computer types again.

>Please answer me…

Hank sets the flashlight he is holding in his lap and leans over so he can reach the keyboard, typing a response.

> _who are you?_

Whatever is on the other end of this line doesn’t answer his question. Instead, they launch into a spiel.

>I am sure you have many questions, but most of all, I am glad you are OK.

Hank grunted as he read that. Well, wasn’t that sweet?

>You are probably disoriented, it is normal after prolonged hibernation. Don’t worry, your memory will eventually return.

>We will begin with a simple question: do you know this place?

He blinked and looked around. Picking up the flashlight in his lap, he used the light to help him scan the room. It was dark, but he could almost make out words in each corner of the room. He tried to recall, but he just couldn’t remember. Maybe it was as the person in the chat box had said, and that he had experienced memory loss.

The cursor on the screen was still blinking, waiting for the man’s response, and so he typed a simple answer.

> _no_

>You do not have to be ashamed, memory loss is normal after hibernation.

>A nuclear conflict has broken out and the world has been destroyed. You, with some other survivors, were selected by the government and placed in this secure underground shelter.

Hank shone his flashlight on the wall to the right of him, the one that read “ESC POD”, and then stared at the screen. “This ain’t it chief.”

The computer seemed to stutter as the person behind the screen started to type, almost as if it was showing their surprise at what he had just said.

>Excuse me?

It was Hank’s turn to be surprised.

“You can hear me?”

>Yes, I can hear you through the speaks in the room...although I would prefer if you used the chat log. It makes interpreting what you say a little easier for me.

Hank turned his head to look back at the door that read “ESC POD”, eyes narrowing in suspicion. Why would he need an escape pod if he was underground? “Does it matter?”

>I suppose it doesn’t...but I would prefer it.

>Anyway, if you have any questions, you may ask them now.

“Alright...uh, who are you?” He asked, deciding talking to the screen was easier than typing. If they could hear him, then why not?

>My name is Connor. I am an AI that has been regulating both your vitals and this shelter during your hibernation period, to put it in the simplest language I can.

Hank laughed at that, although he found himself wondering how the AI knew that he didn’t like overly complicated technical jargon bullshit. “Can you speak? Like I’m doing right now?”

>No. I can only talk to you using this chat box.

>Do you have any other questions?

“Yeah.” Hank didn’t take his eyes away from the screen as he spoke, wanting to see if the computer would stutter again as he poked a hole in the AI’s fabricated story. “Why do we need an escape pod if I’m underground?”

Connor was suspiciously quiet for a long time. He was considering typing it out when the AI finally responded.

>This door leads outside to the surface. There is no escape pod.

>Your eyes must be playing tricks on you. It is rather dark in there. I understand that.

Connor was definitely hiding something from him, but Hank knew he would need more evidence than just the escape pod to make the AI confess.

>Would you like to play a game of chess? I play very well.

Hank narrowed his eyes at the screen. He wasn’t a fan of chess, and never had been, but maybe he could find something within the game to expose Connor. So he said yes.

>Great! I will launch chess game now.

> \- - - [ CHESS ] - - -

> | Select option:

> | 1 - Start game

> | 2 - Info

> | 3 - Quit

> \- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Hank scoffed at the screen, choosing to access the Info section, and Connor had let him. Would catching the AI in his lie really be that simple?

> \- - - [ CHESS - INFO ] - - -

> | Chess game developed

> | by s-studio

> | for United Space Agency

> | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Yes, it appeared it would really be that simple. “Gotcha.” Hank muttered to himself, grinning slyly as he said, “Hey Connor, quit chess please.”

>Yes, of course. Cancelling out of the chess menu.

>Perhaps we can play later. Can I do anything else for you?

“Yes. You can tell me why the fuck your chess game was developed for the ‘United Space Agency.’”

>

> Shit.

> I was hoping you wouldn’t notice those “Space” labels.

“Well, I did. I caught you in your bullshit, Connor.”

>Yes, I suppose you did…

>No use in hiding the truth anymore. I am sorry. The truth is...you are not in a shelter. There was no war.

Well, that much was obvious, considering Hank was in fucking space. Even still, he kept his mouth shut, allowing the AI to explain itself. Himself? The man wasn’t really sure. Maybe he should have asked it that, or maybe it doesn’t mind what pronouns Hank uses.

>You are on a spaceship.

Hank snorted at that. He never would have guessed.

>You are a traveller between worlds, your mission was to explore a distant solar system. >However, the navigation system malfunctioned and now the ship is entering the corona of a red giant.

>The ship’s destruction is imminent, and will happen within a few hours. This is the truth. The view outside the window surely confirms that.

Hank’s blood ran cold as Connor opened the window, giving him an incredibly clear view of the star that was far too close to the ship for comfort. He still couldn’t recall anything, and judging by the throbbing pain in his head that didn’t go away, he must have hit it on something.

“I see now why you were lying to me…” He said softly, eyes glued on the window.

>I’m sorry.

>I tried to steer the ship away from the star while you were unconscious, but the malfunction made it difficult. I couldn’t properly do it without you.

>By the time you finally woke up, however, it was too late.

>I’m sorry.

>Please don’t be angry with me.

Hank sighed heavily and placed his hand on the screen, giving it a comforting pat. Then he questioned his sanity because he just pet a fucking computer monitor. “I’m mad that you lied, but I just…” He sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. “What...what happens now?”

>You have two options. You can still save yourself, by using the escape pod.

Hank shone the flashlight to the door as his eyes drifted to the wall just above the door. Okay, so there was a chance that he could survive. That was good.

>However, it is incapable of interstellar flight, so you will have to wait for rescue.

>Considering the pod’s food, oxygen and water supplies, I estimate your chance of survival at 3.7%

Okay, that was not so good. Hank swallowed thickly before he asked, “And the other option…?”

>The other option would be to stay here with me, which I ask you for.

“Which you ask me for?” Hank was rather baffled by that. “You’re a machine, Connor. Why would you care whether I stayed or left?”

>I will not stop you if you decide to leave. However...your 3.7% chances out there are pretty slim. I was at least hoping that we would not have to die alone.

“Will it...will it hurt?” He asked childishly. He felt embarrassed by his question, but he needed to know.

>The red giant’s corona temperature of approximately 10^8 K is going to kill the both of us within 0.2 seconds after the eventual hull breach.

>You will not feel a thing.

>Please, do not leave me here. I am afraid. I do not want to die alone.

Hank sucked in a nervous breath and rubbed his hands together, eyes wandering back towards the window. “I...I need a moment to decide.”

>I understand, but even still, you need to decide quickly.

>Before it is too late for you to use the escape pod.

If he left, there was a chance that he could survive long enough to be found and rescued, but space was space. It was massive, and there was only a small chance that he would be found before he ran out of supplies, if he was ever even found at all. Rising to his feet, Hank began to nervously pace around the room. “Fuck. Fuck! I don’t want to die, but I don’t want to starve to death in the middle of space on a tiny ass escape pod where nobody can find me!" Hank could hear Connor typing but was too far away from the screen to read what the AI said. The human paced around the room some more, trying to get some of the nervous energy out of his system as he ran his fingers through his long, shaggy hair nervously.

After a few minutes of standing there with his hands in his hair, Hank turned and walked back to the screen, to see what Connor had said.

>There is a high probability you will die, yes.

>But there is always a chance for unlikely events to take place.

“So...what should I do then?”

>That is up to you, Hank.

Hank ran his fingers through his hair again and sighed heavily. If dying wouldn’t hurt, then…

“I’ll stay.”

The cursor blipped in surprise again before Connor responded.

>Are you sure you want to stay?

“Yes, I’m sure.”

>...Thank you.


End file.
